


Veritas ex Nocturnum

by YumeArashi



Series: The Nocturn Arc [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Homophobia, Hunting, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeArashi/pseuds/YumeArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young hunter finds more than he bargained for, and in facing his prey he must face himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritas ex Nocturnum

* * *

 

            The night was warm and soft, the damp from the river rising in mists that wreathed the deserted houses like the shades of clouds long dead.  In the utter stillness the softest breath sounded loud as a scream.  The pale scent of rotting timber and abandoned lives stalked the hollow streets.  All in all, it was a perfect night for my first Hunt.

            I’d spent years preparing for this night, countless hours each day since childhood learning to be one of the chosen, the elite -- the Hunters.  I’d made my weapons myself, crafting each element with loving care, honed both mind and body to their highest potential, then gone beyond it. 

            Failure was not an option.  Occasionally there were Hunters who didn’t return.  No sign could be found of them through mundane or magical means -- not a trace of body or spirit in this plane or any other.  And that, in its own way, was more horrifying to me than any bloody death could have been.

            If I’d had the slightest idea then of what failure really was, I’d have had a substantially different outlook.

 

*****

 

            I stalked my prey to one of the smaller houses.  Throughout the town, I had seen not the smallest indication of any living thing.  I shivered briefly with the sheer isolation, but steeled myself quickly.  This was hardly the time to be getting nervous.  I had to stay alert, prepared for anything.  The Hunted took what shapes they chose - human, beast, or nameless nightmare. 

            A minute noise sounded behind me.  Too soft for normal ears, it still told me what I needed to know.  I quickly turned around, weapons at the ready.  My prey stood at the top of the rickety staircase, leaning casually against the decrepit railing.  A human male at first glance, but the predatory air betrayed the truth.  The lean figure was dressed in simple black clothing, with shoulder-length hair equally dark.  Sharp features, a little older than my own, with a neatly trimmed goatee adorning the angular jaw.  A slight smile of amusement tugged at the thin lips.

            I still don’t know why I didn’t strike right away.  Instead, I did exactly what each and every veteran of the Hunt had ever told me not to do.  I looked the Hunted in the eye.

            Blacker than a moonless midnight, too dark to even distinguish pupil from iris, they were rich with years beyond measure.  But what truly gave me pause was the emotion I saw as well.  In the eyes of a supposedly soulless killer I could see sorrow, disdain, weariness, amusement, bitterness, pain.  So very much pain...

            The moment’s hesitation it cost me proved my undoing.

            Before I could even blink, I was pinned to the wall, my weapons fallen from nerveless fingers, my wrists held above my head in an unshakable grip.  The chiseled face was inches from mine, and I could feel his breath on my face.  I expected it to reek of old blood and rotting meat, but instead it carried the warm, rich scent of cinnamon.  The dark eyes stared into mine, and I realized that he was seeing me more truly than I’d ever seen myself.

            He spoke then, his deep voice quiet.  “Foolish human.  Do you come so anxiously seeking death?”  The words should have been mocking, the tone arrogant, but instead the soft voice was sad, edges muted with sorrow.  Still, I tried to answer as I knew I should.

            “I came seeking to kill you!” 

            He laughed then, a quietly bitter sound.  “Did you?  Did you come seeking me at all?”

            The truth of his words left me suddenly defenseless.  I had not come seeking him.  I had come seeking a monster, but the soul in his eyes and the pain in his voice were all too real.

            “What do you want of me?”  It came out in a whisper.

            The same half-smile.  “Only a little honesty.  You have seen what I am, and you accept in your heart if not your mind.  But do you see yourself, I wonder?”

            A sudden shiver raced through me.  What had he seen in me that I never had?  I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but he didn’t give me the chance.          

            Instead, he kissed me.

            Thought and movement alike froze in shock.  His lips were soft and warm; not forceful at all, but brushing lightly against mine in what might almost have been a question.  My amazement at his actions was equaled only when I realized that I was kissing back.  What was I doing?  Even were he not of the Hunted, he was male, and among my people that was almost as bad.  He released my wrists and my hands went to his chest to push him away, but the gesture was so weak as to almost have been a caress.

            Even so, he pulled away at the touch.  He must have seen the accusation in my eyes, for he answered it with a shake of his head.  “No, little one.  I could control you, but that’s not what this is.”  One elegant hand ghosted down my cheek, and I shut my eyes against the touch.  “This is what you’ve always wanted.”

            My eyes snapped open at that, flashing with anger, but a brief kiss forestalled any verbal protest.  I growled and pushed him away.  He let me, regarding me quietly, his sable eyes oddly gentle.  The pain I’d seen earlier was as much a part of his gaze now as then, and I found myself wondering if he was ever without it.

            “Little one, have you ever been with a woman?  Wanted to be?  Found one attractive, even?”  I was about to object when his words truly sunk in.  No, I hadn’t, but I’d never had time.  I’d always been too focused on my studies, on my goal of becoming a Hunter, to give any thought to romance.  Granted, celibacy had never been a requirement for being a Hunter, and my mates had often followed a rigorous testing session with an outing to the local tavern in search of ‘stress relief’.  I had never joined them, earning me a reputation for an almost fanatical devotion to my training...but had that really been the reason?  What...what if...

            I stared at the man in front of me, eyes wide, not wanting to see, not wanting to know.  The pain was clearer now, etched into his handsome features, shining in his onyx eyes, but his quiet words were merciless, forcing me to accept what I was.  “It’s not women you’ve wanted.”

            A hundred images raced across my mind, memories of seeing other men, admiring them.  Things I had dismissed as a mere desire to emulate, to see in them a goal to achieve, when my true desire had been something entirely different.

            Among my people, the desire for a person of your own gender is one of the highest sins, an abhorrence ranked only slightly below the Hunted.  When such a couple is discovered, they are publicly stoned to death, an event which draws enthusiastic participants from villages miles away.  I’d seen it before, and it was a horrible fate.

            It would be my fate.

            The Hunted watched me as my world fell to pieces around me, dark eyes piercingly soft.  I didn’t realize I was crying until he leaned forward and kissed the tears from my cheeks.  Emotions tore through me, each stronger than the last -- anger for my weakness, self-loathing for my preference, terror for what was to come, horror at seeing everything I’d ever known turned upside down.  He must have seen the growing chaos in my eyes, for he stepped close to me and kissed me again. 

            Swift and fierce this time, the kiss left no room for doubts.  I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against me, eager to lose myself in his fire.  His body was surprisingly warm, a solid comfort against the coldness in my heart.

            “Please,”  I whispered.  He nodded, understanding my meaning without the rest of the words.

            _Make me forget..._

            Small, swift kisses rained all over, slender hands caressing with infinite tenderness.  It made so little sense that I had to understand, had to know.  I caught his wrists as he moved to undress me, my confusion clear in my eyes.

            Sorrow touched the lines of his face, belying the small smile that graced his elegant mouth.  “Because,”  he murmured, never taking his eyes from mine, “because you are like me.”

            I closed my eyes then, hearing his words with my heart as much as with my ears, and knowing them to be true.

            _You are like me._

            I had never in my life needed anything or anyone as much as I needed him in that moment.  He saw it, and in his caresses I could feel his own need, his own pain crying to be silenced.

            The thought that he could need me as much as I needed him sent a wild joy through me.  I gave myself to him then, our pain mingled, shared, forgotten.  Ecstasy replacing agony, and I found myself wishing I knew his name as words of love escaped my lips.

            Nothing had ever felt so right.

            He cried afterwards, as I had cried beforehand.  I fought against the coming darkness to kiss the tears from his face.  I understood now that the pain would never leave his eyes any more than mine could be banished from my heart, but as he looked down at me, I saw something ease in his eyes.  

            “Gabriel,”  he whispered suddenly.  “My name is Gabriel.”

            The darkness took me then, and I knew nothing more.

 


End file.
